


to your fair no painting set

by bleakmidwinter



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Falling In Love, First Time, Jack doesn't know what he wants, M/M, Pining, until he does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 20:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20141650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakmidwinter/pseuds/bleakmidwinter
Summary: Jack Kelly struggles with being in love and what that means for him, and Davey remains oblivious.





	to your fair no painting set

**Author's Note:**

> title from shakespeare's sonnet LXXXIII

It doesn’t take Jake Kelly long to realize he wants to fuck David Jacobs. 

He’s a sexual creature, and he knows his type. Stuffy nerds with a goody two shoes complex. Boys with pants up to their neck, and girls with skirts longer than their legs. 

Naturally, when he sees David Jacobs for the first time, he knows he’ll be trouble. Jack’s libido hasn’t been acting up lately, sorely pathetic for a loud, hormonal, boy in his late teens. After housing with handfuls of boys that are the same as him, street smart orphans with the vocabulary of a peanut, he doesn’t get much time to think about getting laid. 

Then David strolls in, looking new as a pape right off the press, eyes glistening with prosperity. His clothes ironed and tight against him, and everything just  _ clean _ . A certain  _ type  _ of feeling Jack vaguely recognizes stirs in his gut, and he makes the decision to help him the kid out. Not just because this guy fits every criteria for what Jack likes in a man, but also because Jack has a big heart, and this guy has a little brother. He remembers being younger than ten and hungry.

When Jack offers to split profit, and work with them, David gifts him a glare with the biggest round eyes he’s ever seen, the signature of a dope who doesn’t know what’s coming to him. 

Deep down, he prays David isn’t  _ too _ stiff upper lip if Jack has any hope of getting into those tightly buttoned and pressed balloon pants of his.

And then the strike happens, like a tornado tearing its way through a garden.

Things become a blur. He doesn’t have time to be himself, not really. 

Flirts with Katherine here or there. It’s easy, it’s convenient. 

She’s nice. He likes nice girls.

Davey is by his side, every step of the way, and even snaps him out of his stagnation, when he’s wallowing in his own self pity, and painting his dreams with pastels and sweat. 

He doesn’t realize what effect Davey’s had on him until after the strike is over, and he’s still there by Jack’s side. He doesn’t rush home like a coward, nor does he stop selling papes with him on the street. Jack’s not sure what he expected. 

Abandonment?

David’s friendship had felt too good to be true, but it  _ is  _ true, apparently.

Jack wakes up every morning to find Davey waiting for him with his little brother at his side, a bright smile on his face like the strike had never happened, and it’s better that way. Jack wants to focus on the future, figure out what to do with his life.

The strike had been a much needed wake up call.

As he continues selling papes with David, however, Jack realizes there’s still a feeling tugging in his gut. He’s not horny. It’s a different feeling, and it makes him uncomfortable, like he’d eaten a spoiled dinner the night before. He almost wants to tell Davey he needs a day off to lay down, because he feels light-headed every time they brush shoulders or Davey tugs on the rim of his hat playfully.

He’s with Katherine that night, and the next night. They spend a lot of time together, but it’s not the same as it was during the strike. 

There was a sense of urgency to their relationship then, that doesn’t carry over into now.

It’s not a bad thing, but if he kisses her, he doesn’t feel anything other than a sliver of affection. In all honesty, during the strike he thought it could be something more. He’s never had any kind of real feelings for anyone. And, he loves her. In all senses other than the way he knows any woman needs to know. 

In the past, it would not stop Jack Kelly. If he didn’t feel anything for someone, he’d have no problem kissing them. It usually leads somewhere quick, and in the past if she were willing to lift her skirt, he’d be willing to show her a good night. Only if she likes. And hell, she might even want that now. But, for once in his life he doesn’t want it. 

Everything he’s ever wanted is laid out in front of him like pieces on a chess board, or checkers for that matter. It’s all  _ too _ easy. He can’t settle for easy, for convenience, not anymore. 

He doesn’t know if it’s weeks or maybe even months since the strike, his sense of time feels out of whack. He needs to find his footing. 

One night, when he and Kathy are stargazing on the roof of  _ The World _ , quite a privilege, he has an overwhelming urge to come clean, about everything. 

There’s something missing in his life and it isn’t her, it isn’t even Santa Fe.

“Listen, Kathy, uh…”   
  


“I know what you’re going to say, Jack,” She says softly. He swerves to face her. She’s staring up at the night sky with a contented smile. 

“Ya do?” He asks crookedly. 

“I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s different than before, and I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to that heightened state of mind we were both in. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or the heat of the moment, but the spark is gone. Am I wrong?”

Jack stutters. “Kath, you just spelled out exactly what I was struggling to put into words for weeks, how’d ya do that?”   
  


She continues staring at the sky, and gives a laugh with no gall behind it. 

“I’m a journalist, Jack.”

“You’s are aren’t ya,” Jack whispers and takes a deep breath. “Katherine, I’m sorry.” 

There’s a pause, then relief.

“There’s no rule in life that says girls and boys can’t be just friends.”

Jack smiles. “You’re right, sweet cheeks.” 

He never wanted to lose her. Any trepidation about this moment had derived from that fear. He cares about her, still. Katherine finally turns then, puts a hand on Jack’s face and leans in to give him a parting kiss. When they separate, there is a mild atmosphere of finality between them. 

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Jack. You know I always hold your best interests in my top priority.” She looks sad, but he can tell she needs this as much as him.

“No need to be top priority, Kath. Maybe fifth priority or third if ya want.” 

She laughs and he pokes her a few times. 

* * *

“Apple,” Davey says.

“New York,” Jack says back.

“City.”

“Engines.”

“Trains.”

“Sky.”

  
“How do you get  _ sky _ from  _ trains? _ ” Davey asks, dumbfounded. Jack groans obnoxiously loud and rolls over on his side. The ratty blanket he’s laid out beneath him does little to soften the feeling of hard metal against his ribs.

“That’s not the game, hotshot,” Jack reminds. “What word comes to mind after hearing another word? I just said what popped in my head.” 

“It’s getting late.” Davey has a tendency to change the subject every time he knows he’s got no way to win an argument. It’s cute really, and Jack rolls his eyes at his friend.

“So?”

“So, you haven’t eaten. And I haven’t eaten.”

“Who’s stoppin’ you from eatin’?” Jack grumbles, turning to face him again. Davey is glowering down at him like a stern parent, if he knew what that was like.

“I’ve offered to have you come home and share a dinner with us. You’re not going to keep turning down a free meal are you? You can even sleep over if you like. We’ve got an average sized couch, or − ”

  
“Christ, Davey, I get it. I’ll think about, a’right?” 

Jack hates when Davey asks him this. And, truly, he never  _ stops  _ asking. He doesn’t have an issue with people talking about their family, not really. He’s grateful little Les has got a warm place to sleep at night. But, when Davey talks about these things it reminds Jack how separated they are. Selling papes on the street with Davey is always a rush, they work well as a team, been working better since the strike ended. Davey almost seems like someone he can see himself working with years in the future. When his family is brought into the picture, and his home, his food, his bedroom, it reminds Jack there’s going to be a day his father becomes employed again, and Davey will be gone like he was just rain in the gutter.

There is a silence. Jack picks at his nails, and David clears his throat.

“I was going to say,” he continues. “You could also sleep in my bed.”

Jack freezes, and sits up. Seeing he’s got Jack’s attention, Davey adds, “It’s rather big.” 

Is David asking what Jack thinks he is? To sleep in his bed, with him. When there’s a perfectly good couch to plant one’s behind on? In God’s honest truth, he hadn’t thought about  _ being _ with someone since he broke up with Katherine a week or two ago. 

Hell, he hadn’t even told the boys they’d broken up. Katherine still shows up at the cafe, and the lodgings. She doesn’t visit Jack as often as she did, but she keeps up with the boys.

If anything overpowers Jack’s own anguish, it’s his libido. And Davey is staring down at him with his big round eyes, and an innocuous smile at the corners of his lips. He’s almost always smiling. Jack can think of a few ways he’d like to wipe that smile off his preppy little face.

He liked Dave the day he met him because of how proper and smart he looked. Now he’s covered in some grime, some dirt on the cheek, and his collar ruffled. But, all it does is make him more enticing. Jack hadn’t thought it possible. 

He grins, ideas spinning in his head.

“You know what, Davey? Sure.”

* * *

They approach David’s apartment. 

Before they head in, Jack’s nerves set in. He stops just in front of the door. There is a homey light shining dimly through the cracks.

“Is, uh, Les still stick?”

Davey frowns. “Yes. He’ll be in his room, I think, probably sleeping. I wouldn’t bother him if I were you.” 

“Poor rascal,  _ hey _ _ − _ ” Jack grabs Davey’s hand reaching for the doorknob. 

Davey looks at him, perplexed.

“It’s just, well, do your folks know I’m coming?” Jack’s voice nearly cracks.

“I’ve been talking you up for weeks, they’re expecting you one of these days,” David says. Jack’s hand is still wrapped around his wrist so he draws back.

“Sorry. You’s talked about me, huh?” 

“Jack,” Davey places a firm hand on his arm, and Jack is suddenly self conscious of his own appearance. He hasn’t showered in days, he’s covered in sweat and paint and dirt, and he’s about to step into his friend’s, most likely, pristine home.

“You’re my best friend.” 

Jack stares at Davey. He hadn’t heard that right. He’s his what? Davey’s already opened his front door and the moment is gone. Stiffly, Jack follows him inside. 

The place is homey for sure. One lamp is on, standing tall next to the rather small couch, not as big as he’d pictured. An older man sits on the couch, reading a book with no cover. There’s a stark silence throughout the entire apartment. Jack stands in awe. 

It’s not so different from rattier apartments he’s squatted in. Stress begins to deflate from him like he’s a hot air balloon.

“Hey pop.” David slides a few coins into his father’s pocket. 

His father knocks David’s hat off to ruffle his hair up.

“Is this the famous Jack Kelly?” He asks, gruffly.

Jack springs into action, his poised persona taking the wheel. Sometimes he thinks there’s a second person living inside him that’s charismatic and does all the talking, and he’s merely along for the ride. He shakes Mr. Jacob’s hand and the old man slaps him on the shoulder and brings him in for a hug.

So, Davey gets the touchy thing from his pop. 

“Dinner is on the table, wrapped up so it didn’t cool,” He says. “I’m off to bed. Your mother is in Les’ room, reading him a story if you need her. Feel free to stay the night, Jack. What’s ours is yours.” 

He hobbles out of the room, a bum leg hindering him.

“Your whole family people persons?” Jack asks and runs a thumb over the back of the couch. It’s soft fabric. Damn he hasn’t felt something so soft since Crutchie let him play around with his crutch. The fabric on those things are mint. 

David’s gone to the kitchen to bring over a sandwich for Jack.

“Roast beef,” he says with a smile as he watches Jack chow down.

“Damn, your ma make this?” 

“Yes, she’s a talented cook,” Davey says, twisting and turning with his hands crossed behind his back. He’s grinning so wide, Jack’s worried his jaw will break.

“What’s up with you?” 

“I’m just happy you’re here,” he admits. 

“Yah, well, this won’t be a regular thing,” Jack assures, although he’s  _ not  _ sure that’s true. He never trusts his own promises, because he knows he’s always constantly changing his mind on every little thing under the sun. 

The sandwich is brilliant, but really Jack’s gobbling it up like a raptor, because he wants to see Davey in a little less than his normal newsie garb. He wants to see his bedroom, know where he sleeps, see what he sees when he drifts off into dreamland. 

Jack blinks in shock as David finishes his own sandwich. 

He’s never wanted that from anyone. Why the hell does he care what Davey dreams about or what pajamas he wears? Why is just watching him eat enough to make his stomach do flips. Why does he have the urge to tell David he and Katherine are no longer together. 

What the hell would that even change?

“I guess we’re so quiet because the food is so good, huh?” David questions obliviously. Jack stands against the edge of the couch, staring blankly. Davey makes a sound that sounds dangerously similar to a moan, and it’s toward the food, but Jack feels it like a punch to the chest. And to top it off, Davey gets some sauce on the side of his mouth which he wipes off with a thumb, licking the thumb clean with a pop. 

“Sorry,” Davey says with a blush. “I know I’m a messy eater.”

“No worries,” Jack says weakly. “I’m just a little tired.”

Davey jumps and pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Let’s wash up.” He tosses his wrappings into the bin in the kitchen. Jack follows suit and tries not to think too deeply about his situation. He’s led into Davey’s bedroom which is small, but Jack’s seen much smaller.

The bed...is  _ not  _ big. 

It’s twin sized, and yeah, two guys can fit into it, but it’ll be a tight squeeze. He’s not complaining; he  _ did  _ come over here hoping for a little something, but Dave had made it sound like it was bigger than it is. 

He wonders if Dave’s okay with this.

Judging by how immediately he’s stripping down, Jack assumes he is. 

Jack slowly starts to undress as well, feeling instant relief. Some nights he doesn’t even change out of his clothes and falls asleep in his vest and trousers. Always wakes up sweating. He catches a glimpse of David’s leg and tries not to stare. It’s very difficult. 

“You’ve got nice arms,” Davey blurts out, and Jack pauses, turning to him.

Davey looks scandalized, like he hadn’t meant to say that outloud. He turns, pretending like he’d said nothing, and takes a comb through his hair.

Jack smirks, licks his lips, and replies smoothly. “Thanks. You’ve got nice legs.” 

He takes delight in watching Davey tense up. He stops combing, grasping at straws for something to say back. Jack’s only a tad guilty. There’s not much to say in response to that. 

“I won’t hog the blanket or anything,” Jack notes, hopping down onto the springy mattress. Firm, bouncy, and soft all at the same time. He hadn’t been on one that felt this good in a while.

Davey says something then that brings the domestically bittersweet atmosphere to a screeching halt.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

Jack has trouble swallowing.

“Y-You what?”

Davey nods once. As if Jack knew this whole time. As if Jack had only agreed to come over because he’d wanted to take up Davey’s entire bed. His chance to at least feel the skin of Davey’s legs with his toes “accidentally” under the covers has fallen to pieces. And, what little chance he actually had of getting into Davey’s pants has crumbled.

“Oh, sure, right,” he says because this isn’t a moment he could argue. Dave had said it so nonchalantly, assuming Jack had been in on this  _ crucial  _ detail the whole time. 

Davey grins, walking out of the bathroom after freshening up. He has a blanket tucked under his arm. Jack averts his gaze, still brimming with embarrassment unbeknownst to his host.

“See you in the morning, Jack,” and with that parting phrase, he’s gone. Without so much as a friendly clasp on Jack’s shoulder. 

Jack sits in silence, half under Davey’s blankets. He stares at the door to the bedroom that had just been closed, and he falls back against the pillow feeling all kinds of wrong. 

He’d somehow stolen Davey’s place to sleep without even meaning to. He thought the kid would at least want to be here with him instead of that cruddy couch. He meant it when he said he doesn’t hog the blanket. 

* * *

“Jack,” someone whispers. 

Jack’s eyes open to see Davey in bed beside him, stripped down to nothing but his undergarments. He’s breathing in his air, eyes glistening in what little moonlight is shining through the window. Jack’s breath catches. 

Talk about being caught off guard.

“Davey.” He wants to say more. He has a whole lot of things he’d like to say, but Davey takes his face in one hand and brings him in for a passionate kiss. One of his hands cards deliciously through Jack’s hair.

All things seem to fade into lips and small pleasured noises. 

“Jack,” Davey says again, but he’s kissing him, how the hell is he speaking?

“Jack!” Davey shouts, and Jack bursts awake. 

He was kicking his leg like a dog in its sleep, the sheet of Davey’s bed is almost at his ankles. Davey stands over him, shrouded in stark sunlight, hands on his hips. He’s fully clothed.

“Shit, what time is it?” He mumbles, rolling on his side to escape the sun. 

The bed still smells strongly of Davey, damn, if he doesn’t want to sleep here every night. If he could bottle up the scent and bring it back to his own lousy mattress, even that would be as good.

Davey had seemed almost annoyed, looming over him like a disappointed parent, but whatever he was feeling softens, and he smiles.

“Eleven. Get up, you missed breakfast.”

“Elev – Yous fucking kidding me.” Jack fumbles out of bed, and nearly topples into Davey who is standing in his way. “Davey, where’s my clothes?” He spins around and doesn’t see them anywhere. “Davey!” He grumbles with a light shove to his friend’s chest.

“You’re really not a morning person.”

“Ya, for about five minutes, then I’ll be a real peach. Where’s my clothes?”

Davey swallows. “My mother’s just done washing them.”

“She what? I didn’t ask you to do that.” 

“She wanted to.” 

Jack takes a deep breath to steady himself, feeling naked in all senses of the word, and tries to not sound too harsh. He knows Davey means well. He always does.

“Well, in the words of a friend of mine, I’m not a charity case.” Jack pushes past Davey and over to the bathroom to freshen up. Jack washes his face with cold water, only waking up slightly. This whole little visit is being screwed up almost to the point of no return. He doesn’t want Davey to hate him, it’s the last thing he wants. He can still feel his lips on his own in that dream. He closes his eyes, imagining it again. It felt so real, and Davey had moved a leg in between his own right at the end of it, pressing against him as if he knew what he was doing. 

Shit, he’s half hard. He thinks he hears Davey walk out of the bedroom, and wonders vaguely if it’s safe to touch himself. Fuck no, what is he thinking? He wipes his hands on a hand towel, and makes his way back out, awkwardly waiting on the edge of the bed until his clothes are dry.

He doesn’t stay over. He gladly accepts a bagel from Davey’s overly generous mother. Says hi to Les who is still looking far too pale, and allows Davey to walk him back down a few flights of stairs and onto the street.

“Should’a woken me up hours ago, Davey. We got jobs you know.”

“I knew Sundays were usually your days off. Decided to take my own day off too.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Jack smirks, and punches Davey in the shoulder lightly. Davey laughs, but doesn’t make a move to return to his apartment. And Jack doesn’t make a move to get back to his own place, or anywhere else for that matter. His feet are planted to the pavement. 

A beat of silence passes.

“Wanna go get some water with the boys? I can buy ya some chips,” Jack asks. He’s nervous and shifty, which is uncommon. It’s just Davey, he doesn’t see why he’s having trouble looking him in the eye. 

“You know I would love to, but I promised Les before you woke up that I’d play with him today.” 

“The kid comes first,” Jack agrees. “I’m gonna be at Medda’s painting today, probably, if you’s looking for me.” 

Davey grins. “Thanks for letting me know, Jackie.”   
  


Christ, the nickname. He swears he’d sock anyone else in the face for using it. Davey’s the only one in the goddamn universe who can get away with it. 

“Listen, uh,” Jack stutters, and he doesn’t even know what he’s saying until the words are pulled from him forcibly, “Katherine and I are all washed up.”

Davey’s smile fades instantly. He uncrosses his arms, and for a moment Jack can’t read his expression.    
  


“You...split?” Davey finally asks

“Yeah. Um, it’s no biggie, it was mutual and all. She’ll still be around if that’s what you’s worried about. You’re lookin’ kinda pale.” 

“Worried? Oh no, I was just concerned, I guess.” Jack doesn't bother pointing out that those mean the same thing. Davey seems a bit shaken up, and is suddenly taking a few steps backward, reaching for the front door haphazardly. “I’ll see you later, Jack.”

Jack gives a slow nod. “Sure.” 

That night, Jack paints a black canvas with a dim yellow sun peaking over a purple mountain. He doesn’t know what it’s of. He was just feeling it in the moment, but the more he stares at it, there’s a heaviness inside him like an anchor dragging him down into the sea. 

He can’t even swim. 

“That’s different,” Ms. Medda muses. He wonders when she got here. How long she’s been standing behind him in a sparkling red dress, in awe of his work. He’ll never understand why people gape at his paintings. He’s no better than Joe Schmoe from Hobo street.

“Is it,” he says mindlessly, and continues to deepen the purple in the middle.

“Have you been in love lately, Jack?” She asks. 

He nearly drops his brush. “Excuse me?” 

“That’s the vibe it gives me.”   
  


He looks at it up and down, from side to side. 

“How the hell do you get that?!” 

She gives a belly laugh, and slaps Jack on the back. “Honey, I’m ancient. And, wise. I’ve known love and anguish, and I see it in your paint strokes as much as I see it in the way you’ve been holding yourself lately. It’s in your back, and in your eyes. Take a breath, and self reflect sweet heart.”

Jack stumbles over his words, but he manages to get nothing out. Who is he to question her? Apparently she knows more about him than he knows about himself. He’s just trying to push through the days and the weeks and the  _ godforsaken  _ hours of his life, to not think about the country and another life he could have taken. 

Who the hell has time to think about love? 

Sex, sure. Attraction? Why not. A little bit of romance here or there? Sure. No one ever said nothing about love. He doesn’t love anyone other than his family. Specs, Crutchie, Race, Mush... _ Davey _ . 

Ms. Medda must see something shift in his expression because she laughs once, and rubs his back in a soothing pattern. 

“Don’t close yourself off to people you wish to be closer to. That’s all I’m going to say. Go get some rest before I drag you out of here by your ears.” 

“Goodnight, Ms. Medda.” Jack smiles feebly and watches her leave. A deafening silence takes over the room. He throws his paintbrush back in the bucket of purple paint, getting a splatter of it on his leg that will nag him until it chips off later in the week. 

He isn’t in love with Davey. He likes the guy, sure, who wouldn’t? He’s smart as hell, well-read, and owns a pair of glasses that doesn’t do shit for his eyesight because it’s practically already perfect. He’s a good big brother, always puts his needs behind others he cares about, is always by Jack’s side even when Jack thinks he doesn’t need him there, and  _ damn  _ does he need him there. He’s good at speeches even though he say he ain’t. Logical, respectable, and really fucking attractive. Jack swears he sees more beauty in his eyes and his jaw and his smile than he has in years of drawing landscapes. But, no, it’s nothing more than attraction. 

Jack doesn’t need anyone.

And yet. 

The thought of going back to the lodgings to sleep alone, has never brought on such a poignant sense of desolation. He grips the front of his painter’s apron, feeling faint.

Tomorrow he’ll see Davey and it’ll go back to normal. This heady feeling in him will disappear once they sell a pape or two. Davey will start talking about the economy and Jack will zone out.

* * *

It’s half true. At first he thinks it’s fine. They say good morning to each other, bump shoulders playfully like they’ve been friends for years, and head out after buying their daily papes. 

Davey does talk about the economy, and Jack  _ does  _ zone out. 

It's different than usual, though.

He doesn’t just focus on Davey’s lips or his eyes fluttering as he speaks, he actually listens vaguely to the tone of his voice, how it gets high in pitch when he gets excited, how vowels become elongated, how Davey stretches up on his tiptoes when he’s trying to get a point across.

How Jack adores all of it.

Fuck, maybe Ms. Medda was onto something. This goes beyond Jack’s normal; his normal being a general horniness that can be resolved with a hook up or just jerking off at the thought of it a few times. This isn’t that feeling. There’s nothing sexual about this conversation, nor romantic. Hell, he’s talking about rates of poverty in Northwest rural settlements. 

And Jack  _ still  _ wants to kiss him.

“Shit,” he says without thinking and Davey pauses in his spiel.

“What’s wrong Jack?” 

“Uh, sorry, stubbed my toe,” he lies.

They stop walking, or rather, Davey does and Jack nearly topples into him. In the blink of an eye, Davey’s out of his line of sight, and it takes Jack a second to realize he’s dropped to his knees. Davey’s got his hands around Jack’s shoes.

“It’s better to take them off to relieve pressure. Stubbing your toe can be incredibly painful if you don’t do something about it.” Davey smiles up at him, and Jack nearly jumps out of his skin. He’s eye-level with his crotch.

Instead of freaking out, he lifts his leg, dragging it away from Davey’s grip.

“It’s a’right. These shoes are tough. Didn’t feel much.”   
  


Davey shrugs, standing back up.

“If you say so.”

Jack manages to grab a posh looking woman’s attention and sell her two papes. He does a little fist bump in the air and nearly throws a hand over Davey’s shoulder, but hesitates and decides against it. For fuck sake, he can’t even act natural around him.

He’s gotta fix this.

He stares at Davey while he tries to work this out. Davey is staring up at the grey sky, daydreaming about god knows what. Science class maybe, the nerd brain.  _ Shit _ , he likes him. 

Okay, he’ll deal with this the way he’s always dealt with attraction in the past.

If he finds someone particularly alluring, more so than the average little turn of the head at some party he’s crashed, he relieves this by sleeping with them. Jack’s damn good at seducing. He’s met a few girls at Medda’s who he’s been with, and even managed to score a handie from a pious boy at church he’d flirted with one too many times, and drove up the wall so much he was putty in Jack’s hand.

The only issue is that he and Davey already have an established relationship. If Jack uses his normal seduction techniques, he might run screaming. He’s also not sure Davey’s ever had the pleasure of sleeping with someone. 

He also assumes Davey’s gonna somehow be oblivious unless he outright tells him he’d like to fuck. He’s sure that would go over well. Probably receive a slap to the face and never see him again. The thought makes his heart sink.

Jack, however, is still under the impression that this lovesick feeling that arises around Davey will just  _ stop  _ if he relieves whatever sexual tension he’s picking up on. It’s just a matter of how to do it, without disrespecting his friend and colleague. 

Like clockwork, Davey gives him an opening.

“You’re free to come over tonight again, if you like.” 

Jack perks up, now that he knows what sleeping arrangements were originally in mind. 

“I don’t know Dave,” He says, mock oblivious. He knows how profoundly Davey wants him to sleep over. He asks him at least twice a day if not more. “I don’t wanna steal your bed again.”

“You know I don’t mind,” Davey reassures, with the tone of his mother’s generosity. 

“ _ I _ mind,” Jack admits. It’s true, but this also is a bit of a ploy. “Davey, it’s not like I bite. What’s the problem with sleeping in the same bed as me?” 

Jack always had a knack for being blunt. Davey’s eyes go wide as saucers. 

“And...y-you wouldn’t mind that?” 

Jack has to laugh. “How do you think Crutchie and I stay warm in the winter?” He nudges Davey. “You won’t even know I’m there. Unless you rather I not come over. I can go back to my place, don’t wanna be trouble.”

Davey flails his hands.

“No! That’s fine. I’ve got no issue with it, I just thought you’d be uncomfortable is all.”

“Like I said, you won’t even know I’m there. Unless you wants to know.” Jack makes sure Davey sees his wink, and waits for the chain reaction.

Davey realizes what Jack just did and  _ said _ , is frozen in shock, a half smile on his face. If Jack’s not mistaken, he’d say he sees a blush rise to his cheeks. 

Good, not entirely heterosexual. This means he has a chance.

Jack lands a slap right above Davey’s ass, just close enough for Davey to feel it, but not close enough to be obvious to any passer bys. 

“Lunch?” He asks, and Davey seems to relax from being stiff as a board.

“I’d love that.”  
  


* * *

Davey is nearly shaking with nerves, unlike the night before.

Jack almost feels bad. This is his doing after all. Davey wanted him over his house bad enough to displace his discomfort for the time being. And now he’s waspish and pale in the face. He hasn’t looked Jack in the eye for the last half hour.

“It’s just me,” Jack says. It sort of slips out. Davey becomes rigid once more. 

“I know,” Davey says curtly, then sighs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just stop fixing your hair and stalling. It’s almost past midnight.” Jack lifts up the covers for Davey to crawl in beside him. Davey hangs very close to the edge of the bed. 

Jack rests on his elbow, staring right at Davey who is hyperfocused on the ceiling.

He’s slept with enough of the boys, not sex, just in general, to know that this isn’t natural behavior. All the boys he knows who like girls, have no issue cozying up to Jack like he’s a body pillow. Davey’s acting like he’s Frankenstein’s monster, which ironically, is a good sign. 

“You’re warm.” 

“What?” Davey asks with a stutter. “You’re not even touching me.”

“That’s what I mean, I can feel it from here. You’re sweating too.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” Davey seems snippy. Maybe this isn’t the right approach. He’ll start softer then.   
  


“You know, I never thanked you or anything.”   
  


Davey continues to stare at the ceiling. “What do you mean?”

Jack inches closer, unnoticed by his friend.

“You stuck by me through and through, durin’ the strike and all. We barely knew each other, but for some reason you was still there for me. You don’t know how good it made me feel to see your face encouraging me, encouraging the boys.”   
  


“Jack, where’s this coming from?” Davey asks softly. He’s less tense, but more focused Jack would assume. He’s staring at the ceiling, but now it almost seems like he’s looking for an answer in the textured plaster. 

“Can a man not thank another man?” 

“You can, Jack, I just, I don’t deserve, well, I don’t know – ” Davey rambles. Jack can’t help but grin, watching Davey’s cheeks turn pink, and to see his eyes wanting so badly to look at him, but too afraid to see him that close. 

Damn, Davey hides his attraction well in their day to day routine. Where the hell was this bashfulness the past few weeks? Jack would have gone for it by now. 

“I’m not doing too good on my promise am I?”

“Huh?” Davey sounds out of breath, chest rising unsteadily, where one of his hands rests.

“I said you wasn’t even gonna know I was here.” Jack smiles wider because this is what finally gets Davey to face him. The blush on his face deepens when he meets Jack’s eyes. Their faces are barely inches apart. Jack opts to move one more inch closer.

“I suppose not,” Davey eventually agrees. His eyes flicker towards Jack’s lips, but regain their starting position. He almost looks guilty, but this is the last sign for Jack that things are going smoothly. He always knew Dave was a bit of a romantic. He likes big words, and sentiments. And proximity, not to mention his favorite; physical intimacy. 

This time, however, he hopes Davey wants to do more than just sit around with his arm over Jack’s shoulders. .

“What are you goin’ to do about that, Jacobs?” Jack asks simply, inching a leg forward until his foot finds Davey’s and he nudges him just barely.

“I – I don’t know, Jack.” 

“You could do a lot of things. You could yell at me for not shutting up, or shove me around until I learn my lesson.” Jack reaches forward and fondles with the fabric of Davey’s undershirt. He mumbles, “This cotton?”

Davey’s breath catches when one of Jack’s nails catches on the skin of his chest. He answers what was obviously a rhetorical question used as a pathetic excuse to touch him.

“It’s polyester.”

Jack doesn’t stop touching it. “Don’t even know what that is.”

Davey licks his lips, and the heat between them seems much more suffocating than it did moments ago. Jack thinks he must be getting him really worked up. Shamelessly, he’s staring at Jack’s lips. Jack could lean forward and give him what he wants, but he respects him too much. There’s still a chance this could go sour, and Davey would run out into the living room and bury himself in the couch. 

It would be a shame, since Jack’s already half hard, but he’d never make Davey do what he doesn’t want to do. He’ll just have to think of another way to get over him.

“I like your eyes,” Jack says. Davey blinks, and looks back up at Jack as if he’s just now realizing what is going on. His eyes are half lidded, but they are still a beautiful green Jack can make out even in the moonlight. 

“And your smile,” he adds. “And the stupid way you do handshakes, and – ” 

Davey surges forward and kisses him. Jack’s mind goes blank, and warmth blossoms in his chest. It’s a feeling he hasn’t had with anyone else he’s kissed. Davey’s kiss contains every element of inexperience and innocence, pressing too hard against Jack’s lips, not opening them in the slightest. It’s absolutely fucking adorable. 

Davey pulls away just as quick, looking as if he’s been burned.

“Oh lord,” he mumbles, and makes to move out of the bed, the fear of rejection taking hold faster than the gears in Jack’s head can start up again.

Jack manages to grab his wrist just as he stands up, and pulls him back down. Davey topples over on top of him with a surprised yelp, and Jack grips his neck as they kiss a second time. It’s unbearably hot. Not just what they’re doing, but Jack is under two or three sheets with Davey draped over him, inadvertently pressing him into the mattress. 

They’re going to be in a pool of sweat sooner or later, but neither seems to care.

“Davey, I’ve wanted you since the day you showed up sayin’ you wasn’t gonna pay for the papes until you sold ‘em all,” Jack admits, nosing behind Davey’s ear, who is still too tense in his arms, it’s just a miracle he’s not running away. 

Davey breathing is shaky and uneven. 

“I must be dreaming,” he whispers, allowing Jack to kiss down his neck. 

“Not dreaming, thank christ,” Jack says, sucking mark into his neck seconds later. Davey grips his shoulders, making a small noise. “You can relax, you know. You’re tenser than...shit I don’t know, my brain ain’t working, but you’s tense as hell.” 

Davey pushes Jack off of him gently, only to take his face in one hand, and lean in to kiss him again; it’s more tame. Unfortunately Jack’s not too good at tame, as precious as he finds it. Jack opens his mouth against Davey’s, flicking his tongue against his bottom lip, coaxing him to part his lips, and when he does, Jack pushes against him, kissing him the way he knows people like. 

Jack shoves the blankets off himself and drags Davey closer by his hips. That’s when he feels how hard Davey is. Jack’s eyes widen. 

“God, you been nursing that this whole time?” 

“Before I brushed my teeth,” Davey pants against Jack’s lips, leaning in for more kisses. He seems intoxicated, high on whatever Jack is choosing to give him. As if he's just discovering what the concept of kissing even is. 

Jack is dumbfounded. “You been this hard for an hour?!”   
  


Davey’s cheeks flush a deeper color and he pulls back so he can talk properly without Jack drawing him back in. He looks so good like this, completely debauched. 

“The thought of you in my bed was unbearable,” Davey confesses, swallowing hard. “Let alone with me in it as well.”

“You’re gonna kill me, Jacobs,” Jack says drowning out his groan by dragging him back down for a harsh kiss. Using a second hand to reach down and pull at the drawstrings of Davey’s nighttime trousers.

Davey gasps when Jack’s fingers slip under the fabric, finding their target. His head drops to Jack’s shoulder and he slowly crumbles against him. Jack’s hand curls around his cock, marveling at how hot it is in his hand. He strokes a few times, enjoying the desperate noises from Davey.

He pulls his hand out just as fast, ignoring Davey’s high-pitched disapproval. 

Jack flips them around so Davey is beneath him. 

“You ever had anyone go down on you?” Jack asks with a smirk. 

Davey bites his lip, looking a little embarrassed. 

“I’ve never done anything, with anyone.”

“You’s serious?” Jack whispers. “Kissing?”

Contrite, Davey shakes his head.

“Hey, hey, it’s all good, Davey. Um, you know you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want. I don’t wanna pressure you into this sorta thing.” Jack does all he can to not go back to stroking Davey and hearing all his soft gasps and noises. Maybe he should have said this before he stuck his hand down his pants. Not that Davey was complaining. 

“Shut up,” Davey says and Jack does. He’s laughing so Jack knows he’s not serious when he continues to say, “You’re seriously an idiot.”

  
Jack huffs. “We don’t all get to go to school, bird brain.”

“Jack, I wasn’t sure what it was at first, back then. But, slowly I began to realize that this is what some of the boys at my school call being head over heels for someone. Although, it usually refers to girls, because girls like boys, and I’m a boy. But…” Davey lets out a sigh, reaching for Jack’s hand. He intertwines their fingers. “I like you. I thought, you’d be disgusted.” 

Jack laughs, instantly regretful. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that I’ve been wanting in your pants for so many damn weeks. I’m the last person that would be disgusted.”   
  


A smile creeps up on Davey’s face, turning into a toothy grin. Jack’s breath is stolen from him when Davey sits up to close the space between them. 

He puts his hands on Jack’s face.

“Are you going to make love to me?” He asks softly, curiously. Jack’s heart aches. He’s hyper focused on Davey’s hand which ghosts over the skin of his neck. 

“Oh man, you really  _ are  _ gonna kill me,” Jack grumbles averting his gaze. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. “Uh, depends though. Do you have some sort of um…”

He doesn’t know how to word it in a way that Davey will know what he’s talking about.

“Oil? Lotion? Or something?”

Davey tilts his head. “We’ve got olive oil in the kitchen,” he replies eventually. Jack nods, and slaps him on the hip. Davey scrambles out of the bedroom, and comes back half a minute later with a large bottle in his hand. 

“We don’t need that much, but we can put it back. C’mere.”   
  


Jack takes the bottle and places it up against the wall as he presses Davey into the mattress, kissing whatever skin is in his line of sight. Davey’s head naturally rolls back, and his fingers dance over Jack’s bare shoulder blades. 

“You can grab my hair, don’t gotta be so gentle” 

Davey seems concerned, so he adds. “I like it.” 

An anxious hand finds its way into his hair just as he begins to kiss below Davey’s pecs, and down his abdomen. The closer he gets to the hardness between his legs, the tighter Davey’s fist gets in his hair. 

Skidding his mouth over his quivering stomach he says, “Bet those schoolgirls got nothing on you.” 

“They certainly have nothing on  _ you _ ,” Davey notes softly. Jack smirks and tightens his grips on Davey’s waist, kissing down. 

“You’re mad gorgeous,” He mumbles against Davey’s skin, and sucks a hickey right above his left hip bone. Davey lets out a squeaky gasp, and bucks up, his erection nudging Jack’s chin. Davey looks ready to apologize and stumble over his words, so Jack puts a finger to his lips to shush him, and mouths through his trousers, sucking at the head, the fabric becoming damp around that spot.

Davey moans, the hand that isn’t in Jack’s hair flying back to grip his pillow.

“Shut it,” Jack chuckles. “Your folks and your brother are gonna hear.” 

He’s not sure Davey heard him, but he pulls his trousers down anyway and licks a stripe up his cock, earning another buck of the hips. After only a couple more licks, Davey comes suddenly, spunk splattering all over his stomach which is rising and falling dramatically. His face is gorgeous, eyes squeezed shut, and silently gasping for breath, like he’s just found God.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ , I’m sorry,” he stammers when his senses come back to him.

“Mmm, Jacobs, I’m digging the sailor talk,” Jack croons, and laps up the mess on Davey’s stomach until every drop is gone, savoring every twitch of his friend’s body along the way.

Jack surges forward to kiss Davey, and he feels Davey’s limp arms try to circle around him and find something to grip onto.

“How was it?” He pants. “You ready for more?” 

Davey’s eyes are closed, but he nods, and whispers. “Can I touch you?”

“Whatever you want.”

Davey reaches a hand down to Jack's erection, pressing a hand over the fabric, and he squeezes experimentally. A sharp gasp is ripped from his throat; he hadn’t realized how hard he’d been until now. Davey tugs at his trousers, and Jack helps him by removing them, and then Davey’s.

They kiss some more, and Jack ruts leisurely against Davey, brushing against his spent cock every few thrusts. Davey’s arms are wrapped completely around his neck.

“Jack,  _ Jack _ ,” he keeps whispers, like hes trying to start a sentence, but keeps getting caught in a loop, not knowing anything other than his name. 

Jack grunts into Davey’s neck, and feels Davey’s cock twitch once more. 

“Do you trust me?” Jack asks.

“Jack, of course,” Davey opens his eyes and squeezes his bicep to assure him.

Jack reaches for the olive oil, pouring only a little on his hand. It goes a long way. He’s used this stuff before. “Spread your legs for me.”   
  


Davey does so, a little sheepish. 

“This won’t hurt much if I do it right. I need yous to relax a’right?” 

“I can do that,” Davey responds, amused. Jack brushes his thumb over Davey’s hole, and instinctively Davey jumps and scoots back. “Sorry.”   
  


“It’s okay, you sure you’re cool with this?”

“I want you inside me,” Davey says breathlessly, and Jack feels a hot spark in his chest when he sees Davey panting, open mouthed with shining red lips. Miles from the babe in the woods vibe he gives whenever they’re running about the city together. 

Jack clears his throat. “Okay, okay. No need to tell me twice.” He slowly presses his index finger inside of Davey who throws his head to the side, eyes tightly shut. “You okay, Davey?”

“Yeah, it’s just strange is all.”

Jack wants to tell him it’ll feel better soon, but he also wants him to find out for himself. He slowly works Davey open, and every second that goes by, Davey listens to him and tries to relax. He inserts a second finger, and Davey gasps, eyes opening again, hand curling in the sheets. 

Jack kisses down his thighs while he gently thrusts his fingers into him, dragging his lips over Davey’s cock which is slowly swelling back up. Davey suddenly clenches around his fingers and his body seizes up violently. He moans, without meaning to. Jack can tell because one of Davey’s hands flies up to cover his own mouth. 

“Oh God, do that again, Jackie,” he pleads. 

“There it is,” Jack says, giddy, pressing up against the same spot as much as he can. Davey’s hips start shifting down against Jack’s hand, and Jack removes his fingers. “You’re ready, I’d say.” 

Davey blinks, like he’d forgotten why they were doing this in the first place, then a subtle excitement seems to take over because he spread his legs wider, and allows Jack to slick himself up and line up against his hole. Jack takes a breath and pushes in.

Davey bites his lip and doesn’t make a sound until Jack bottoms out. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” he says like he’s discovered some rare phenomenon.

“Tell me when it feels okay,” Jack croaks. He’s not sure how he has control of his own hips right now. His dick is begging to thrust into this tight heat, but he cares too much about Davey’s comfort to do anything that would wrong him. 

Jack is caught off guard when Davey grabs a handful of his hair and drags him down for a searing kiss. This shifts him deeper into Davey, and they both gasp against each other’s lips. 

“Fuck me,” Davey demands. His eyes are dark, and Jack’s never seen him so assertive nor heard him so shamelessly profane. Jack nods, breathless, and swoops in for a kiss as he rocks into him. He gradually picks up the pace, and Davey mutters a mantra of “yes” and “more” and “ _ Jack. _ ”

Jack knows he hits the right spot when Davey’s head flies back while they’re kissing and he groans as quiet as he can manage, knowing his family is sleeping in the apartment. Davey’s legs circle around him and attempt to draw Jack closer by pressing on his back. Jack does his best to keep slamming into that same spot that makes Davey convulse, his orgasm approaching rapidly. 

Davey presses his forehead against Jack’s and Jack reaches between them to stroke Davey off, who whines and squirms. He’s never seen someone be so effected by sex.

Davey comes for the second time that night, Jack following quickly after, pulling out just in time to spill over on Davey’s chest, his cum mixing with Davey’s. Despite the mess, Jack collapses on top of Davey, and kisses his chest. 

“I haven’t had sex that good in years,” Jack mumbles tiredly. Davey holds him close, breathing slowly now, face pressed into Jack’s newly sweaty hair. He doesn’t bother asking Jack about his past, or who he’s slept with before. 

“I love you,” Davey says. 

Jack’s heart skips a beat, and he’s silent for too long because Davey’s fingers stop curling through his hair, and Jack can tell he’s regretting what he had just confessed.

The whole point of this was to fuck these feelings out of his system. Usually after sex he falls asleep or wants to be alone, but the thought of letting go of Davey, or drifting off and missing one second of being held enraptures his entire person.

His feelings haven’t vanished. Nor have they diminished.

Davey saying he loves him almost gave him a heart attack, and the thought of Davey not knowing he feels the same will haunt him for the rest of his life if he doesn’t come clean.

“David Jacobs, I’m stupidly in love with you,” he admits finally. 

He can hear Davey’s breathy laugh, and feel the hand in his hair tug upwards so he can kiss Jack’s forehead. Jack will kill anything that ruins this moment with his bare hands.

“I’m scared,” Davey whispers after what seems like hours of silence.

“We can’t have that,” Jack replies tiredly. “What’s wrong?”

“If anyone finds out, if this gets out…” Davey seems unsure how to finish the statement. Jack knows what he’s trying to say, and though he doesn’t share the same fear anymore, he did a long time ago. 

“I ain’t gonna let anything happen to us, a’right? No one will find out.” Jack sits up on his elbows, staring straight at Davey who still has sweat beading on his brow. “Don’t you worry. I promise. You’s with me.”

“Okay, Jack.” 

“Now, please, we really need to sleep. The morning’s gonna be a nightmare tomorrow if we stay up.” Jack rolls on his side, and says, “Hey!” accusingly as he feels Davey get up from the bed.

“I’m just leaving to put this away,” Davey explains with a laugh, waving the olive oil in one hand.

Abashed, Jack curls more in on himself, but goes slack when Davey returns shortly after and presses up against him with his arms wrapped around his waist. They drift off into sleep together, and Jack no longer feels a weight on his shoulders.

* * *

They wake up wrapped in each other’s limbs, and scramble to get dressed before anyone in the Jacobs family decides to snoop. 

Jack is given a very delicious breakfast yet again, and he and Davey head to work. It’s like any normal day. And instead of pretending his attraction to Davey doesn’t exist, he can stay on task knowing what he and Davey will have to look forward to in the days to come.

It may not be much, but when Davey turns to him and grins, cheeks glowing with jubilance, Jack feels a deeply rooted satisfaction which signals to him he might be able to stay happy for a long while. 

**Author's Note:**

> this ended up being way longer than originally planned, but davey and jack own my ass as much as they own each other's now. so i hope you all enjoyed this, i might throw out a few more newsies fics in the future but idk


End file.
